


Runs in the Family

by Lady Angel (dameange)



Category: Grimm (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Teen Wolf Crossover Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dameange/pseuds/Lady%20Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a project for his history class, Stiles goes in search of his mother’s family.  After all, he knows a lot about the Stilinskis (German, arrived in New York in the 1800s), but his mother’s family was small and far-flung.  Luckily, he finds a distant cousin only a state away in Portland, Oregon.  Even better, he’s a cop (a detective really) by the name of Nick Burkhardt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runs in the Family

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to both Aithine and Mific. Aithine, you were a wonderful beta who helped me with everything from plot holes to grammar. Thank you for taking time out of your hectic life to beta this for me.
> 
> Mific, you were my pitch hit artist, but if I could have chosen an artist, you would have been my top pick. You were awesome and amazing and surpassed all expectations when you gifted me with not one, but 3 pieces of incredible art! Thank you so very much.
> 
> And in case the link doesn't work, you can find [Mific's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific) amazing artwork for me [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/778302).

Prologue

To: nick.burkhardt@portandpd.gov  
From: g.stilinski@beaconhillshigh.edu  
Subject: We may be related?

September 30, 2011

Attachment: familytree.jpg

Dear Detective Burkhardt,

My name is Stiles Stilinski from Beacon Hills, California. My junior history teacher is a huge genealogy nut and, predictably, assigned my class a genealogy project. Thanks to the amazingness of Ancestry.com and my own Google-fu, I have discovered that you and I may be related through our mothers’ families. My mother’s name was Nadja Sonnen and was a fifth cousin of your mother, Kelly Kessler. 

For my project, I just need you to look over the family tree I’ve attached and see if my information regarding your side of the tree looks good. And if you can add anything to it that would be great!

Sincerely yours,  
Stiles Stilinski

 

To: g.stilinski@beaconhillshigh.edu  
From: nick.burkhardt@portlandpd.gov  
Subject: Re: We may be related?

October 1, 2011

Dear Stiles,

My family is so small that I was surprised to learn I had any relatives out there. From the family tree it looks like there’s not many of us, is there? For your project, my side looks as complete as I have ever seen it. 

So, you’re a junior? In high school? Thinking about college yet?

Good luck with your project.

Yours,  
Nick

 

To: nick.burkhardt@portandpd.gov  
From: g.stilinski@beaconhillshigh.edu  
Subject: WE’RE IN THE FINALS!!!!

February 20, 2012

And guess who’s slated to play first line?!?!?!?! That’s right! YOURS TRULY!!!! 

Gotta run! Scott, Isaac, and Jackson are here. They want to practice for the next game.

BTW, I’m glad you found your partner’s goddaughter!

Later,  
Stiles

PS!!! Dad says there’s a police conference in Portland during spring reak. Would you like to meet in person?

 

To: g.stilinski@beaconhillshigh.edu  
From: nick.burkhardt@portlandpd.gov  
Subject: Re: WE’RE IN THE FINALS!!!!

February 20, 2012

Stiles! Congratulations! 

I would love to meet you and your dad. Just let me know when you’ll be up here and I’ll give you the full tour of Portland. We may have to save Voodoo Doughnuts until the last day you’re here though. If you’re still worried about your dad’s cholesterol, you’ll kill me if he finds that place.

Nick

 

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 1

 

“Get in there!”

“I would if I could see where you wanted me to go.” Stiles couldn’t stop his mouth, but he could duck. He felt the air displacing where the hulk of a man had swiped at his head. He lurched a few more steps forward, tied hands stretched out in front, hoping to stop himself from slamming face first into something. 

“Stop.” His kidnapper jerked at him, ripping the cloth bag off his head.

Stiles blinked at his surroundings, taking in the cave that was filled with a surprisingly comfortable-looking bed and, of all things, an armoire next to the entrance. A battery-operated lamp was clamped to the bedframe. Behind him, sunlight streamed through the door made of steel bars. He could just see the outline of the other kidnapper outside the door; probably keeping a lookout. 

“Gimme yer hands.”

Stiles carefully held them out, spreading them apart as far as they would go when he saw the knife in the guy’s hands. A quick swipe and he was free. Flinched away when the kidnapper leaned close to sniff at him, seeming to be pleased but wary all at once. The guy’s face changed as he sniffed, wolf-like, but not like Derek or Scott or any of the other betas at all. His packmates had enlarged brow ridges, but this guy had an actual canine-like muzzle as well as the enlarged brow ridge. Fur rippled along his lower cheeks and jaw as the transformation completed.

He held perfectly still as his kidnapper backed away from him and out the tunnel and through the door. The kidnapper let it clang shut behind him, not even bothering to lock it. Stiles carefully moved towards it and gave it a tug. It had to be self-locking because he couldn’t get it to budge. A glance outside showed nothing but forest, so yelling for help would be pointless.

Giving in for the moment, Stiles slumped down onto the ground.

“This one’ll fetch a really good price,” the look-out kidnapper commented to his partner as they climbed into the van that had transported Stiles to his cell. His face morphed just like the other one had, same canine-like features, his voice a yippy kind of sound.

“A baby Grimm like him? Hell yeah.” The first kidnapper nodded, face morphing back to human.

Stiles watched them drive off. Shivering in the cooling afternoon air, he moved towards the armoire to search for anything useful. He stared in consternation when he opened it. Neatly lined up on hangers were ten red hoodies; all various sizes. 

He looked down at himself. 

At the red hoodie he'd grabbed this morning. 

“Seriously?” he asked the fickle gods of fate, head tilted back to glare at the top of the cave. “Seriously? I don’t even think this is mine! It’s Scott’s! I’m pretty sure it’s Scott’s! I can’t believe it. I’m a damn cliché! Red Riding Hood and the Big, Ugly Wolf . . . only he’s not really a wolf. Not like Derek. Nope, weird morphing face and claws, but not a four-legged wolf at all. How disappointing.”

Stiles banged his head against the furniture.

Really? 

And this trip to meet his newest family member had started off so well.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Stiles was nearly bouncing in his seat, could feel his father’s amused eyes on him, but he didn’t care. He was about to meet a long-lost cousin! A couple of other classmates had found interesting, long-lost family members, but none of them had really connected like he and Nick had. Their emails had started off with small talk but, as the months had passed, they had slowly started sharing more about themselves. It was nice having someone outside of Beacon Hills to talk to or sometimes, more likely, to rant to when things got complicated.

Now they were going to meet face-to-face.

“Stiles, relax.”

“But what if he’s different in real life than he is in his emails?” Stiles turned to his dad, gesturing. “It happens all the time. You hear those horror stories about expecting one thing and then getting another!”

“This isn’t internet dating.” His dad peered at him, face faux-stern. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”

“Ew, gross, Dad! He’s my cousin!” Stiles rolled his eyes as his dad cackled softly. “’Sides, it’s not just internet dating where that happens. eBay is rife with bait-and-switch.”

“Good thing you didn’t buy me off of eBay, right?”

Stiles jumped and twisted in his seat. There, grinning at him, was a blue-eyed, brown-haired man in his early thirties. He looked just like his Skype picture. His voice was the same, too.

“Nick?”

Nick’s grin grew. “Stiles, it’s nice to meet you finally!”

They exchanged a handshake that morphed into a manly one-armed hug.

“This is my dad, Sheriff John Stilinski,” Stiles introduced his dad as the two men shook hands.

“John, please.” His dad waved Nick to the bench on the other side of their booth. The diner where they had decided to meet for breakfast was between their hotel and Nick’s station. The police conference for small town law enforcement officers wasn’t slated to start for a few hours and Nick didn’t have to be in until eight, so they would have plenty of time to talk.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Nick sat down. He didn’t seem too nervous, smiling and relaxing back into his side of the booth.

“By the way, Stiles, congratulations on winning the championship,” Nick said after the waitress had taken their order.

“Thanks! You should’ve seen Scott, Isaac, and me! Scott passed me the ball, and then he and Isaac ran interference while I got into the net! It was awesome!” Stiles grinned at his dad when he draped his arm over his shoulders and shook him.

“His goal got us ahead of the other team right before halftime. Beacon Hills came back even stronger in the second half. They got their second wind thanks to Stiles,” his dad boasted.

Nick shook his head. “I can’t believe you play lacrosse. I mean, it’s as old as the Native American tribes!”

Stiles snorted. “That’s Beacon Hills for you.”

“At least you’re not playing fake Quidditch,” his dad quipped. 

“I hear Berkeley has a team,” Nick said slyly.

Stiles threw his head back and laughed as his dad groaned.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

The second time he saw his captors was at dinner time. 

Stiles pressed himself against the wall, carefully watching and making no sudden moves. He gave himself enough space to move just in case the bad guy decided to attack, but he made no plans to escape unless both of his kidnappers managed to knock themselves out, tie themselves up, and leave the keys to their car in plain sight. It was dark and he was in a strange forest without a GPS. There was no way in hell Stiles was going to risk getting lost in a dark forest with two werewolves on his trail. 

Instead, he watched them for habits that he could exploit. He also wanted to make sure they underestimated him. It was usually easy with other supernatural creatures. They saw a human and they dismissed him. To their detriment. 

The same guy from this morning brought in a huge box of food that looked and smelled amazing. It was placed, unceremoniously but carefully, on the ground by the bed.

“Eat it,” he commanded. “It needs to be gone by breakfast.”

The “or else” was implied.

Stiles waited until they were gone to approach the food. He stared at it, debating. He wished he had a wolf’s more sensitive nose to tell if it was poisoned or tainted in any way because, man, he was starving! The donuts from Voodoo Doughnuts from this morning with his dad and Nick had been a long time ago, and the fear and adrenaline used up whatever reserves he had. Reserves that he would need tomorrow if he was going to try to escape.

Praying to the gods that watched over hyperactive, hungry teenagers who ran with wolves, Stiles started eating. Everything was ridiculously good and still mostly hot. He idly wondered if they had a camp nearby where they'd cooked it all. He also idly wondered about his captors’ transformations earlier today. Neither of them had transformed during this second visit, and Stiles _would_ have wondered if it was a side-effect of hitting his head when they had grabbed him.

Except, it wasn’t the first time in Portland he had seen that weird morphing thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Stiles wiped his mouth and stood. “Restroom,” he said in answer to his dad’s raised eyebrow. Nick just nodded and popped the last of his pancakes into his mouth.

Despite his worry that Nick would be different, he turned out just as cool as his emails had implied. Breakfast was relaxed and easy. Something that had been missing between himself and his dad for a really long time. Stiles winced, thinking about his relationship with his dad, as he made his way across the diner towards the restrooms. He knew that one day soon he was going to have to tell his dad about the pack, he knew he was going to have to come clean about all the supernatural happenings in Beacon Hills. For all of his words, he had no idea how to tell his dad. But this trip was good for them. His dad was already more relaxed than he had ever been and they were sharing time that wasn’t fraught with lies or tension.

He was almost to the men’s room when a man hurried out of it and slammed straight into him. Stiles reached out automatically to catch the guy. 

He jerked away when the guy’s face morphed into a humanoid mouse. Fur and whiskers on the lower half of his face; large, rounded ears; and a nose that twitched fearfully.

The guy’s eyes were wide and scared as he cringed away. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!” he wailed as he darted away and right out of the diner.

Stiles stood frozen in shock, completely unable to process what had just happened. He knew there were shifters: werewolves, kanimas, werecats. Not a single shifter he had ever encountered had run away like that. Not until they realized he was just as capable of defending himself as the wolves or the hunter in his pack. Neither Derek nor the Argent bestiary had made any mention of a mouse shifter. He closed his eyes to fix the guy’s features in his memory so he could look it up on his laptop once he got back to the hotel.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 2

 

Nick slumped back in his desk chair, utterly baffled by his current case. He and Hank had been working on a string of missing persons cases for two weeks now without any leads. The only two things the victims had in common were their gender and their relatively young age. The missing young men had disappeared off the streets, and whoever was taking them never left a single witness or usable clue to their identities. It didn’t help that the various departments who originally had the cases dismissed them as young men “leaving their homes for an adventure,” to quote one very senior detective. Evidence had been barely collected by those departments, or it had been backlogged.

The only thing connecting these cases was the similar state in which their bodies had been found: with teeth and tool marks on their bones, and their bodies dumped in the woods. It was the teeth marks that was really throwing them off. Their only theory right now was a cannibalism ring, supported by the fact that “bodies” wasn’t the correct term. More like their skeletons has been found, with only tiny bits of muscle and tendons left. Identification had to be made by dental records.

“I think it’s time for lunch,” his African American partner announced, slumping back into his chair like Nick. “I’m not seeing anything new.”

Nick nodded, too tired of their inability to find anything to stop these homicides to answer. He glanced over at Hank to ask where he wanted to go for lunch, but was stopped by a rather strange expression on his friend’s face.

Hank leaned forward, his voice low. “You don’t think this could be . . . you know?”

“Wesen?” Nick kept his voice low as he copied Hank’s posture, shrugging one shoulder. “I guess? But none of my sources have been saying much. And there’s no way to check since any scent that Monroe could pick up has long dissipated.” He winced. “Of course, if any Wesen out there were eating humans at this scale, there’s no way in hell they’d be advertising the fact.”

Hank scowled. “Damn, thought maybe we’d have something there.”

He could only give his friend a commiserating nod. Nick was fiercely glad he had told Hank about his Grimm heritage and the Wesen community that he policed because of it. Ever since his dying Aunt Marie had told him why he had been born with the abilities to see the liminal beings that walked the world among humans, he had felt alone. Unable to talk to anyone about this new, secret life he led. No one except the Wesen he had befriended, like Monroe and Rosalee. But now, his friend and partner knew. Hank knew and helped and was fairly amazing once he realized he wasn’t going crazy seeing the Wesen woge into their creature forms.

“Let’s just go to the diner,” Hank said, standing and grabbing his jacket.

“Yeah.” Nick followed his partner in shutting down their computers and tidying their files.

“Nick!”

He turned, John Stilinski was coming at him fast and worried. The older man’s face was tight and eyes wide with fear. 

“Can you trace Stiles’ phone?” he demanded.

“Why --”

“I just got a call from Scott, Stiles’ best friend. He says he was on the phone with him when Stiles was kidnapped.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“You should be able to see the phone in about five yards, Detective,” a faceless phone company technician directed.

“Thanks,” Nick replied absently, eyes already searching. 

“Here.” John’s voice was controlled, tight, as he scooped up a phone. He quickly punched in the code to open the phone. “Last call to Scott, like he said.”

“I’ll call the K-9 unit,” Hank offered, moving away to make the call.

John was inhaling slowly, then those sharp blue eyes landed on Nick. “You didn’t even question me when I said Stiles was missing. Was it just professional courtesy?”

Nick knew better than to placate the older man and shook his head. “Our current case is missing young men; Stiles fits the victimology.”

John said nothing, but his body screamed. Increment by increment, he forcibly relaxed, then he turned that focus back on Nick. “I want to see your files.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nick left John with the files when he saw Hank return. “Anything?”

His partner shook his head. “The dogs only got so far, then it was like something confused them off the trail.”

“Okay, do me a favor and go stay with John.” Nick grabbed his jacket. John didn’t even lift his head to see what was going on. He was staring at the crime scene photos from the latest body dump.

“Monroe?” Hank asked.

Nick nodded. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Less than an hour later, in the early evening sun, he and Monroe were out on the trail where they had found Stiles’ phone. Monroe was sniffing the air, turning left than right.

“Yup, it’s a Blutbad, all right.” The weider Blutbad – reformed and no longer eating humans – stood, straightening his sweater vest and slacks.

Nick stared at him. “I thought they only went after girls?” He remembered that this morning, when he had taken Stiles and John to breakfast at Voodoo Doughnuts, Stiles had been wearing a red hoodie. 

“Well, traditionally, we do, but times change,” the brown haired Wesen answered causally as he started walking. He was following the course the dogs had followed earlier in the afternoon. He stopped where they stopped, at a small clearing in the middle of the wooded area. 

“No track marks of any kind,” Nick pointed out. “CSU didn’t find anything to point to a vehicle.”

“And there’s no way a horse would ever let a Blutbad near it, so he’s not riding out of here.” Monroe chuckled a little under his breath.

Nick decided not to ask. “So nothing?”

“Sorry, man, but I’m not getting anything.” Monroe’s hazel eyes was studying the trees, scenting the air. “Maybe he did something to mask his scent? I could ask Rosalee if she knows of anything that could do that?”

“Well, if he did, he’s certainly smarter than the postman.” 

Monroe nodded, face twisting a little as if he was remembering the case that brought a Grimm into his life.

Nick hid his own grin. The Blutbad grumbled about being friends with a Grimm, but he knew Monroe did value their friendship. More than Nick had at the beginning. At the beginning, Nick had merely viewed him as an informant on the Wesen world, but as they continued to work together, Nick’s respect for Monroe grew. He was glad to call Monroe a friend now.

“Burkhardt,” Nick answered when his phone rang.

“It’s Hank. Giving you a heads up: Stiles’ friends are on their way to us.”

“Okaay?” Nick wasn’t sure why Hank felt the need to inform him of this.

“They’re asking for the coordinates of where the dogs lost the trail. They’re pretty adamant about being shown where it is.”

“What is John saying?”

“They’re not here yet, they called when the landed. So, maybe another ten, fifteen minutes?”

“Okay, I’ll drop Monroe off and see you then.”

“No luck with him either?”

“Well, he’s confirmed that it’s another Blutbad.”

“That’s something, at least.”

“Yeah.” Nick hung up and followed Monroe back to the car.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Monroe offered contritely, scratching at his closely shorn beard.

Nick shook his head. “No, you’ve given me a direction to start at least.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Scott --” John’s voice was going for reasonable but was edging towards angry exasperation.

Standing in front of the sheriff was a young man, the same age as Stiles, with dark floppy hair and an uneven jaw that made him look . . . permanently lopsided. He looked young and harmless. With him was a beautiful dark haired girl; a shorter, intensely focused redheaded young woman; and a blond young man that screamed ‘jock.’

“Sheriff, please, just tell me where Stiles was this morning. The park’s name, anything!”

“Scott,” John sighed. “It’s getting dark and honestly, I don’t know what you’ll think you’ll find that trained trackers and their dogs didn’t.”

Scott’s jaw moved but it seemed he couldn’t come up with anything.

“Allison’s dad taught her everything he knows,” the redhead spoke up, discreetly nudging the brunette.

“My dad’s trained me,” Allison confirmed. “He says I’m an expert at it.”

“You probably are, Allison,” John conceded. “But I’m still not sending any of you out there in the dark.”

“But that’ll be too late!” Scott burst out, body tense and jerky.

Nick stepped closer, hoping to lend his objections to John’s, but he froze. His senses perked as he neared Scott and the other young man. It was, to a certain extent, the same kind of perking his senses did around Wesen before they woge. But it was weird, because even though Scott was clearly upset, he wasn’t morphing into his Wesen visage. He had never seen a Wesen that could control the change when they were that upset.

“Too late for what, Scott?” Hank asked gently, trying to calm everyone down.

“Tracks can be altered by the elements or animals, Detective,” the redhead pointed out. 

Nick had to give the kids credit: they were pretty good about hiding something, holding something back. Everything they said was true, but with his senses niggling at him, Nick knew they weren’t telling the entire truth.

“That’s enough.” His hand slashing through the air, John had lost his patience. “I don’t know what you think you can do that an entire team of trackers couldn’t, but we’re not telling you where Stiles’ trail disappeared.” His voice strangled quietly in his throat. “I’m not going to be responsible for more missing kids.”

Scott opened his mouth to argue, but something stopped him, his head tilting. Face falling into contrite lines, he asked timidly, “Can we go tomorrow morning?”

Nick was about to say no, to save John the trouble, but John was carefully studying his son’s best friend.

“Yes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 3

 

Stiles managed to disguise the mountain ash circle just in time to hear a truck pulling up to the cave’s entrance. He checked his pockets one last time to make sure he had everything he needed: bottles of water and apples from last night’s dinner – just in case he was out in the wilderness for longer than a day, the blanket from the bed was wrapped around his chest, and the tiny vials of mountain ash and wolfsbane he had pulled off his key ring. 

He had thanked whatever god was listening last night when he realized that the kidnappers hadn’t thought to search him for weapons against the supernatural. They had glanced at his key chain and the two long, thin, capped test tubes attached to it, but had dismissed them. They'd probably taken the ash at face value since he had labeled them as volcanic ash from various volcanoes in the U.S. He was also glad Deaton had showed him how to mask the scent of wolfsbane. 

Now he had a means of escape and a weapon.

The rumble of a heavy duty truck echoed into through the tunnel and into Stiles’ cave. He ran to the entrance, eyes quickly taking in the world outside the barred door. He nearly did the Snoopy Happy Dance when he saw that only one of his captors was here this time, gathering up another box of food from the back of his truck. 

Stiles crouched down near where the tunnel opened up into the cave, a tiny bit of the mountain ash left in his palm. He knew exactly where the rest of the mountain ash had to go to complete the circle.

The bar door opened, the kidnapper stalked through the tunnel then into the cave. A few more steps and he was in the circle.

Stiles darted forward, blowing the mountain ash towards the circle and _believed_.

He scrambled back, out of arm’s reach as the kidnapper surged forward, praying and believing. Let out a relieved breath when the guy stopped short, glaring down in confusion. Just like his kind of werewolf, Stiles’ captor was confused by the thin line of ash, unable to step over it. The mountain ash circle would hold until Stiles broke it.

Stiles tapped out some of the wolfsbane onto his palm and stepped closer. The guy was snarling, backing away now that the wolfsbane was out of its sealed container. Stiles blew it into his captor’s face. Just like he hoped, the herb disoriented the guy long enough for Stiles to snatch the cell’s key.

He bolted.

The truck was empty, no one was around, but Stiles worked as fast as possible, hot-wiring the truck and throwing it into drive. Stiles had no idea where the hell he was, but he could follow the truck’s tracks back out of the clearing well enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Fuck!” Stiles cursed.

Apparently, his captor hadn’t been alone. At least two other men were chasing him, running along the truck, darting amongst the trees. He jerked the wheel left, then right. Barely avoided a huge tree, bounced off a boulder instead. His teeth jarred at the impact, but his eyes darted left and right to keep the two kidnappers in his line of sight.

“How many are there?” he muttered to himself, driving even faster.

Stiles had nearly hit one of them as he left the clearing. He had almost stopped to ask for help, but then the guy morphed and Stiles revved the engine and shot forward. The guy had barely dodged in time. He had seen another one jumped towards the truck and gunned it. The third guy bounced off the hood, leaving a smear of blood and hair. 

Stiles hadn’t been surprised one bit when the guy got back up. The two of them had been tracking him and the damn truck was running out of gas. Stiles had no idea what he was going to do if he didn’t hit civilization soon. 

A howl rent the air, a thud made the truck shudder.

“Fuck!” Stiles swore as the kidnapper landed in the bed of the truck. He jerked the wheel left and right, hoping to dislodge the guy, but the bastard managed to hold on. Erratically driving on purpose, Stiles hoped it kept the guy off balance enough so he couldn’t get into the cab. 

Stiles had seen movies like this.

So he knew, inevitably, the truck was going to either crash or run out of gas. Using his left hand to jerk the wheel between trees and boulders, skirting them the best he could, Stiles reached for the mountain ash. There was precious little left; just enough though.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other kidnapper and knew this was probably his only chance.

He stepped on the gas one last time, aiming it towards the still running kidnapper’s trajectory. Undid the seat belt and reached for the door.

He jumped out and rolled. The second he stopped, he closed his eyes and blew the mountain ash into a circle. It was just large enough to keep him out of arms’ reach. Stiles flinched when the truck slammed into the huge tree he had aimed it at. Could hear his kidnappers as they converged on him.

“Now what?” he asked himself, warily watching them approach.

“What the hell is this?” the guy Stiles had privately named Ratface groused as he bent to examine the mountain ash circle.

“How the fuck should I know?” snapped the other kidnapper. This one Stiles was calling ‘Lumberjack’ because he was huge and beefy and wore plaid _and_ suspenders. “Hollins isn’t gonna like this.”

“Well, no shit! He’s a Grimm! Would’ve gotten us a fortune!”

Stiles really couldn’t help himself. “What’s a Grimm?”

They both sneered at him.

Stiles shrugged a shoulder. Oh well, couldn’t blame him for trying, right? He sat down and decided to rest. The adrenaline was wearing off and his legs felt like jelly right now. Closing his eyes, he decided to block out his kidnappers and their plans to get him out of the circle. 

“Maybe a stick?”

Stiles would have laughed, because nothing but him was going to break the circle, but didn’t because he didn’t want to egg them on. With his luck? They would decide to throw a big rock at his head and he had no idea if the circle would protect him or not. Definitely something to test with the pack once he got home.

If he got home.

Stiles shook off the negative thoughts, silently reaffirming his belief in the mountain ash and infusing it with a little bit more juice, just to be safe.

Just as Ratface and Lumberjack were planning to use rope to lasso him out of the circle – seriously, lassoing him – they both jerked up. Faced the same direction at the same time. Their faces were masks of confusion and fear.

Then Stiles heard it.

A roar that made him smile.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 4

 

The next morning, Nick waited until he was in the car with only Hank and John to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind since last night.

“John, why did you agree to let a bunch of teenagers go to a crime scene?”

From the way Hank tilted his head towards them from the driver’s seat, he was interested in the answer too. But his eyes continued to dart up to the rearview mirror to make sure that Scott and his friends in their rental car were keeping up.

John sighed, long and loud. “For the last year and a half, Stiles and Scott have been hiding something from me. Stiles . . . Stiles won’t tell me even though he’s come home with bruises. He tells me they’re lacrosse training accidents, plays up his clumsiness. But I know my boy, and he may be a klutz, but he’s never been that bad of a klutz.”

“And you can tell when he’s lying to you,” Hank concluded.

John nodded. 

Hank mimicked him. “My mama always knew when I was trying to pull a fast one on her, too.”

“Aunt Marie always gave me this look that said, ‘you think you’re getting away with it, but you’re not,’” Nick reminisced. His Aunt Marie, who had raised him after his parents died in a car crash when he was twelve. His Aunt Marie who had loved him and raised him and lied to him all his life. Who came back to Portland dying from cancer, just in time to tell him precious little about their family heritage as Grimms. He still loved her, still missed her, but sometimes he cursed her for not coming back sooner.

“I guess I figured that whatever is going on, regardless of it, Scott’s his best friend and he’d do whatever he could to help.” John sighed heavily. “And maybe they’ll trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.”

Nick nodded. He glanced in his side mirror. “They still behind us?”

“Yup,” Hank answered.

“Scott?” John asked. “Or the other car following them?”

Nick traded a grin with is partner. Of course John would catch that too. He may be a small town sheriff, but John was experienced and no one’s fool. “Both.”

“Can you tell who’s in the other car?” Hank directed the question over his shoulder to John.

“Too far.” It was clear John was disgruntled by this fact.

“I could--”

John waved off Hank’s offer. “Nah, we’ll probably find out soon enough.”

Once they reached the park, they waited as Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson piled out of their rental car. The three men pretended not to notice the large SUV that rumbled past.

As Hank led the way to the clearing where the dogs had lost the trail, Nick’s senses were on alert. More alert than usual. Glimpses out of the corner of his eyes told him they were being followed. His hand itched to go for his gun, but he stilled it. Most likely the passengers in the other car, but he had no idea who they were. So, he stayed his hand, but it definitely hovered by his gun. 

“Here we are,” Hank announced. He moved to one side of the clearing and pointed down in front of a huge evergreen. “The dogs lost the trail about here.”

Nick noticed that Hank’s hand was nowhere near his gun. A quick glance at John told him the same thing. Then it was just him, his Grimm senses that caught whoever was following them. That meant supernatural beings were on their trail.

Scott and Jackson immediately moved forward to study the ground. Allison, their supposed tracker fell back; Lydia didn’t even bother to move. Scott tilted his head up towards the canopy of the trees. Jackson looked straight ahead. Then they both tilted their heads in opposite directions. Watching them was strange, completely unlike anything human. His senses still tingled around them, but not once did they woge into another form. He would have to ask Monroe what kind of Wesen could control their change like that around a Grimm.

“So, Scott,” John said, taking advantage of the young man’s distraction. “Who was that in the other car?”

“What other car?” Scott asked immediately. 

It was clear the boy couldn’t really lie very well. His body language gave him away: shifting eyes, nervous swallowing. Jackson and Allison were better at hiding their surprise; Lydia was the best.

“The black SUV,” Nick tossed in, just to see the kids’ reactions. They were pretty good, not exchanging a single glance at the others.

“Oh, that was just some friends,” Lydia tossed out airily when it was clear none of them were going to let it go.

John frowned. “What friends? What are they here for?”

“Moral support,” Allison answered, moving to wrap her hand around Scott’s wrist.

John glared at Scott, then each of the others in turn. “You’re Stiles’ best friend. Allison is your girlfriend, Lydia is her best friend, and Jackson is her boyfriend. I could see why the three of them are here as ‘moral support’ but another car of people? This isn’t some mystery dinner vacation for your friends!” Anger leached out of his every word.

Nick didn’t really know how to comfort the man about his missing son. Instead, he put on his most intimidating posture, hoping that the kids would spill whatever they knew or were hiding.

Scott was shaking his head, eyes completely sure of the severity of the situation. “Sheriff, that’s not--”

“Danny’s in the other car,” Jackson broke in. “He’s my best friend and he likes Stiles. He’s here to help find him.”

“There was more than one person in that car,” Nick pointed out.

“They’re all friends who volunteered to come help find Stiles. We can do introductions over tea and cookies.” Lydia glared at them all. “After we find Stiles.”

“She’s right.” John reluctantly agreed as he moved towards the underbrush and crouched, examining the ground. “Any of you spot anything?”

The boys exchanged glances.

“What? What is it?” he demanded.

The forest shook ever so slightly under his feet. Nick’s head swiveled as he searched for the source.

A long, angry howl rent the air.

“Oh, my God,” Scott muttered before taking off.

Jackson was immediately behind him, the girls not far behind.

“Hey, wait!” Hank took off.

Nick ran beside John for the barest moment before John shook his head.

“Go!”

Nick didn’t wait for another admonishment; he let himself run faster than his human partner. He was almost to the amazingly fast girls when another boy joined them, holding what Nick knew to be a lacrosse stick. Only, instead of a net at the end, it was a wickedly sharp-looking blade.

“What’s going on?” Allison shouted at the Hawaiian-looking young man.

“Another pack took Stiles!”

Both girls cursed. A crossbow appeared in Allison’s hand. 

Nick didn’t bother questioning, instead he passed them. He could just see the two boys up ahead. Whatever they were, they moved damn fast.

Another howl rang out.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 5

 

Stiles relaxed in his protective circle as soon as he heard that second howl. He thought about warning the two men, but immediately decided against it. He worried instead about what had happened to the owners of the red hoodies in the armoire. The talk of "fetchin’ a high price for this one" hadn’t settled his mind at all. At best those guys had been sold into white slavery, but he seriously doubted they would get away so lucky as being forced into menial labor.

The ground rumbled beneath him. Stiles could feel the vibrations of pounding feet. More than one set. His pack was here.

His smile made the two men take a step back.

A black blur crashed through the trees, landing between him and his kidnappers.

They growled, their faces transforming, claws out. But neither one could hide the fear when confronted with a pissed off alpha werewolf. Derek was huge in this form, with thick black fur, long sharp claws, and fangs. Fast as hell on all fours or just on his hind legs, and incredibly strong, too. He was something out of nightmares to those who posed a danger to his pack.

Stiles relaxed, knowing Derek was here.

Derek reared back on his hind legs and roared a challenge. The trees shook with his anger.

Lumberjack charged Derek, only to be flung into a tree, never even getting a hit in. Ratface took one look at his co-conspirator, then turned tail and ran. Lumberjack was getting back up, growling and obviously hurt, but angry as hell. His body language changed from aggressive attack to fearful retreat the second the rest of the pack showed up. He howled at them, but they roared back. He ran.

“Stiles!”

He turned to see his dad, gun in hand, aimed at Derek’s alpha form. His dad’s eyes were wide with confusion and fear. The way his dad was inching towards Stiles, he knew it was fear for him, not fear of Derek’s alpha form in his dad’s eyes. On either side of him were Nick and Hank. Their guns were out and aimed as well, but at the other wolves. Their faces held determination, as if the pack wasn’t the only strange thing they had ever seen in these woods. Reminding himself to ask later, Stiles inwardly groaned, moving to block his dad’s shot at Derek.

“No, Dad, it’s okay!”

“Move, Stiles!”

Nick and Hank echoed his dad when Allison, Lydia, and Danny moved to block their shots of the wolves, still growling and morphed. The wolves were not happy that their human mates and packmembers were standing in front of guns. They growled louder, prowling forward, making his dad, Nick, and Hank even jumpier.

“Okay, everybody, just calm down.” Stiles held up his hand, breathing slowly, hoping that his own calmness would calm the wolves. “Everyone breathe with me. Everything’s okay. It’s all okay. Everyone’s safe now. Now one’s going to hurt anyone. We’re all friends here. It’s okay. Everyone breathe with me.” 

It worked. Little by little, his pack calmed. They de-wolfed, claws and fangs retracting, bodies loose rather than tense with adrenaline. He could see Nick and Hank relaxing too, now that they were faced with a bunch of teenagers rather than werewolves. But not his dad. His dad’s eyes were still glued on Derek, still in his alpha form. 

Stiles could feel him breathing heavy and deep behind him. He had no idea why Derek hadn’t transformed back into his human shape, but he knew he had to calm his dad first before Derek would feel safe enough to change back.

“Nick, I’m not the only one seeing this, right?” Hank’s question broke the silent tableau, eyes moving away from the rest of the pack to stare at Derek.

Nick shook his head.

Everyone remained where they were, still wary of the other group.

Stiles stepped forward, out of the mountain ash circle and towards his dad. The gun moved so that it was still aimed at Derek, but his dad’s other hand flashed out to drag Stiles behind him. Stiles stopped by his side, putting his hand on his dad’s arm, pushing down.

His dad glared sidelong at him. His expression clearly said, _"Are you out of your goddamn mind? Do you see what I’m seeing?"_ “Stiles--”

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m okay. He’s not going to hurt us. I promise. He’s going to transform back into his human body, but first I need you to stop pointing your gun at him.” Stiles tugged a little, then a little more before his dad relinquished his gun. Stiles stepped back towards Derek. His dad moved too late to grab him before Derek curled around him, clawed hands gently searching his body for wounds. Stiles laughed as a cold, wet nose snuffled him. “I’m fine,” he reiterated for Derek’s benefit, pressing back into all that warm fur.

Derek huffed.

His dad’s eyes were wide, staring, as Stiles rubbed his cheek against Derek’s muzzle, reaching back with his free hand to scratch him behind one pointed ear. With one more long nuzzle, Derek stepped back.

“Who were they?” Scott burst out. “They smelled terrible!”

Stiles had to chuckle as Scott well and truly broke the uncomfortable silence that had fallen. His pack surged towards him, hugging and petting, making sure he was all right. He loved this, loved that he had gone from having just his dad, Scott, and Mrs. McCall, to all of these people who cared enough about him to travel to another state, to race towards unknown dangers to save him.

“Seriously.” Lydia pulled back from their hug. “What were those things?”

“Blutbad. Another kind of werewolf.”

Stiles turned in time to see Boyd hand Derek boxer briefs and jeans. Derek had his back to everyone as he dressed, speaking over his shoulder instead. Stiles could feel himself flushing as he stared at all that gorgeous skin and the tattoo that drew his eye up from an amazing ass up to an equally amazing back and shoulders. He really regretted that Derek hadn’t changed _before_ curling around him and feeling him up. As cool as he was in his alpha form, Stiles really did prefer Derek’s regular, gorgeous, human self.

“Hale?” his dad growled, eyes flashing in a completely human – completely dad – rage way. “Derek Hale?”

“Uh oh,” someone whispered.

Stiles facepalmed.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 6

 

Nick left Stiles, his father, and his friends with Hank to report in with their superior. Stiles had given his report, including descriptions of his kidnappers to a sketch artist, and was now reading it over to sign and filling out assault and kidnapping charges. The story he had concocted was amazingly Wesen-free and completely logical. 

“And how is the young man?” Reynard asked. The captain of their division was seated behind his large wood desk, tailored suit still perfectly wrinkle-free even after a full day at work. His dark hair and eyes, aquiline nose, serious demeanor, and those trappings all combined to give Captain Sean Reynard a very regal bearing. 

“He’s doing pretty good, sir. His dad’s here and his friends. They’re all very protective.” And how. Nick was still in shock at seeing Stiles’ friends transform from teenagers into creatures he had never encountered before. He was used to people’s faces going from human to Wesen, but seeing Derek Hale’s full body transformation had been completely unnerving. He itched to get his hands on his family’s library or on Monroe and Rosalee to ask questions.

“He’s given us something to work with?” Reynard had tilted his chair just so to look past Nick and out into the bullpen where Stiles was now talking to his friends while his dad talked to Hank. 

John continuously glared out of the corner of his eyes at Derek Hale. The younger man had one hand wrapped possessively around the joint of Stiles’ shoulder and neck. Stiles grimaced when he caught his father’s looks, but when Derek tried to move his hand, Stiles immediately caught it and held on.

He nodded, then gave his full, but edited, report to his captain. “The sketch artist will have the final version of his work by this evening. We’ll be able to get it out in the morning edition.”

Reynard nodded. “Excellent work, detective. Go home, get some sleep. You have white slavers to catch tomorrow.”

Nick ducked his head to hide his grin. It was so very Reynard: caretaker and slave driver all in one. “Yes, sir. Have a good night.”

Reynard waved him out.

Nick took a deep, fortifying breath as he walked towards Hank and John. John especially made him nervous. It was obvious from the forest that John had no idea what his son had been up to, had no idea that the supernatural existed at all. And while he and Hank were surprised as hell to see actual werewolves, they at least had some kind of experience with the supernatural – he of course much more than Hank. John, on the other hand, had had the shock of his life. Nick had no idea how he was going to react. Would he react like Hank when told? Helpful back-up and someone to talk to? Or would he react like Juliette, who had cried and thought something was fundamentally wrong with the person revealing the truth?

“We’re going to my house,” Hank announced rather quietly. “Order pizza, have dinner, a drink.” He glanced at John. “Or two. Talk about things.”

Nick nodded. Before he could tell the kids to start moving out, Wu came in. The sergeant came straight at them.

“Any luck?” Nick asked.

Wu shook his head. “The CSUs didn’t find any usable prints in the cave where they kept the kid. Didn’t find the guy Stilinski said he locked in their either, his accomplices must have returned for him. They did find the red hoodies though. We’re having the labs match up any DNA found on them to your missing person cases.”

“Thanks, let us know if they find anything.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Wu nodded over his shoulder at Nick’s request as he walked towards the captain’s office to give his report to their superior.

Nick looked back at Hank and John, giving both of them a shaky, not-at-all-looking-forward-to-this smile. “Okay, let’s get going then.”

In less than an hour, everyone was seated around Hank’s living room. Chairs had been brought in from every room in the house and still there weren’t enough seats. Some of the teenagers had simply shrugged and seated themselves on the rug, leaning against their friends’ legs.

“Stiles,” John immediately took control of the situation. “You first. The real story this time.” He was seated in Hank’s favorite arm chair. Nick had seen Hank open his mouth but apparently he thought better of it because he just chose another chair. 

“That was the real story, Dad.” Stiles shifted into Derek’s shoulder, curling up so that Derek’s arm wrapped around him. He ignored the pointed stare his father sent him. “I just fudged how I escaped.”

“How did you escape?” Hank asked.

“I carry mountain ash and wolfsbane with me.” He held up his keychain, pointing to the empty test tubes.

“Mountain ash?” Nick jumped in, his curiosity completely peaked. He knew that wolfsbane was an issue for Blutbaden, but he had no idea what mountain ash was.

“Mountain ash is another name for the rowan shrub.” Stiles relaxed even further into Derek. “It can be used to trap supernatural creatures.” 

Beside Nick, John growled under his breath.

Derek shifted, but stayed where he was. His chin lifted, but his expression was nothing but respectful of the sheriff.

Stiles, ignoring the byplay between his father and his . . . friend, told them exactly how he used the two powders to escape his kidnappers. Once done, not letting anyone get a word or question in, he twisted to face Derek. “Blutbad? Another kind of werewolf? Sourwolf, have you been holding out on me?”

Derek shrugged a shoulder. “I’m surprised they weren’t in the bestiary.”

“They’re not,” both Lydia and Allison chorused. 

“They would know,” Jackson said dryly. “They’ve all memorized it.”

“Seemed like the smart thing to do.” Stiles glared accusatorily at the blond man. “After someone went and turned into a kanima. We needed to know what other little beasties to keep an eye on for.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hank mouth the word ‘bestiary.’ John just looked shellshocked. And Nick himself was trying to remember if he had ever run across a kanima in his family’s books.

“At least you know what they were,” Stiles was saying when Nick tuned back into the conversation. “I thought I was seeing things when I got here! That mouse-looking guy at the diner and that fox-like woman at Powell’s City of Books.” He snapped his fingers, grabbing Lydia’s shoulder, shaking her a little, his face lit up with excitement. “I found this great old book there! Another version of the bestiary!”

“You can see them?” Nick burst out, coming to his feet, staring at his distant cousin.

“Holy shit,” Hank breathed.

“See them?” Stiles was confused, all wrinkled brow. “Oh, you mean those people? Yeah.”

“Other than the Blutbaden that took you? You could see others?” Nick couldn’t believe this. Couldn’t believe this at all. But it made sense. They were related through their mothers. Aunt Marie said the Grimm powers ran through family lines. He wondered if Stiles’ mom had been able to see the Wesen. “A Mauzhertz? A Fuchsbau? You saw them?”

“A what and a what?” someone asked.

“What the hell is going on here?” John Stilinski jerked out of his seat, his hands waving, face livid. “Blutbad? Werewolves? And why the hell is a twenty-five year old man cuddling my underage son?”

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 7

 

Stiles facepalmed in an attempt to hide rather than in exasperation or embarrassment. He had no idea how to answer his father. The room was utterly silent, he couldn’t even hear Derek breathing behind him. God, Derek. He knew he shouldn’t have been so obvious with his dad watching his every move, but he wanted the closeness. Not just with Derek, with his dad and his pack as well. Ever since they had found him, his pack and his dad had been all over him and Stiles loved it. But Derek . . . Derek was just . . . Stiles didn’t even know what to call Derek, didn’t know what they were himself. How was he supposed to answer his dad’s questions? Deciding to ignore the last question and not knowing the answer to the first, he started on the second. 

“Dad, Nick, Hank. Welcome and be well.” He waved his hand to indicate him and his friends who sat up straighter, touching hands or shoulders in a show of solidarity. “We are the Hale pack, territory Beacon Hills and its surrounding woods. It’s alpha, Derek Hale. And his lieutenants: Scott McCall and Vernon Boyd.” 

Stiles gave the traditional greeting and introduction for the hell of it. He would have to get used to it after all. Once he left for Berkley, Derek had warned him that he might meet other wolves or other supernatural creatures and knowing how to greet them would be useful. Might as well practice. Derek gently squeezed his shoulder in approval.

Slowly, concentrating on the pertinent facts, he told his father – and the rest of his audience – exactly how he had become part of a werewolf pack. He kept it simple, forcibly staying on track. He didn’t think his dad could handle much more than that. When he finished, it was quiet again, but not the tension-filled silence of before.

His dad was nodding, eyes carefully studying them. “Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.”

Stiles eased himself away from Derek and across the room to his dad. He wasn’t disappointed when his father stood and met him halfway, hugging him tight.

“I wish you had told me sooner.”

“I didn’t know how. I wanted to protect you.”

His dad pushed him away, hands still firm and careful on his shoulders. One finger jabbed the air in front of his nose. “I’m the parent, I protect you, kid. Not the other way around.”

Stiles shrugged, letting his dad think he had won. He knew the truth: that he would protect his only family at all costs. He sank into another of his dad’s hugs before returning to his place beside Derek.

“Now.” His dad cleared his throat. “What’s this about Blutbads?”

“Blutbaden is the plural, actually.” Nick cleared his throat too, eyes darting down to his feet before he sat up straight in his chair, shoulders thrown back. He took a deep breath. “Two years ago, I started seeing things. People’s faces would suddenly transform into something that resembled the features of an animal or some kind of otherworld creature. A wolf, a hag, a lizard. I had no idea what was going on until my Aunt Marie came to visit me. She told me I was a Grimm, that the creatures the Brothers Grimm had written about in their fairytales were real. These creatures, these Wesen, have a human face until they experience strong emotions.” Nick paused, swallowing. “They can show themselves to people, but only Grimms can see through their human faces. My family has been policing the Wesen community for generations.”

Everyone was silent.

“Look, Nick’s telling the truth,” Hank vouched for his partner as if he was worried that a room full of werewolves would discount Nick’s story.

Stiles waved away Hank’s worry. “We know. Actually, now that I think of it, they said I was a baby Grimm and would ‘fetch a high price.’”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, Aunt Marie said it runs in families and since we’re related . . .” he trailed off.

Stiles grinned. “It’s cool. It probably would have been a shock, but, seriously?” He pointed at his pack and shrugged. After all, what was one more race of supernatural people?

“Stiles’ mother, Nadja. Whenever we went on trips, she would shy away from certain people. She was fine at home, but trips outside of Beacon Hills always made her nervous.” 

Stiles stared at his father as he suddenly spoke of his mother. He had never known this about his mom. He remembered trips to the beach, to the city. He didn’t remember her flinching from anyone. But then again, he had been a kid and his father had been in law enforcement for a long time. His dad was observant by nature.

Derek nodded. “Beacon Hills has been my family’s territory for generations. Wesen won’t live in an area claimed by a werewolf pack.”

Nick shook his head, his face bursting with disbelief. “I didn’t even know there were . . . When I realized that Hank and John could see you. And when you were all.” He waved his hand at Derek. “I’ve only ever seen Wesen.”

“There’s a quote,” Lydia said, her voice and her face had that fake vacancy she used to wear all the time. “Something about Horatio and things on this earth?”

Stiles hid his grin by ducking his head.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It wasn’t his bed, but it was still better than the bed in the cave. For one thing, it was in a nice, warm hotel. For another, his dad was sitting on his bed reading over material he had missed at the conference today. 

Stiles studied his father, took in the relaxed but concentrating posture of his body. He saw the way his dad’s eyes darted towards him every once in a while. Sucking in a fortifying breath, he asked, “Dad, everything okay?”

His dad dropped his paperwork with a sigh. “Just . . . still getting used to a new world view.”

“Oh yeah, totally get that.”

His dad snorted. “You probably saw it, said cool, then researched the hell out of it.”

Stiles laughed, squirming a little when he saw the fond, affectionate look his dad had on his face. He cleared his throat. “Do you think Mom . . . .”

“Yeah, but I don’t think she understood what was going on.” His dad pushed all the paperwork together, dumping in the desk. When he sat back down, he sat next to Stiles’ leg. He watched his dad pick at a loose thread, eyes not quite meeting Stiles’. “If she had known, she would have told me. I would have accepted it, she knew that.” He stopped picking the thread, his eyes were now focused on Stiles. “Like you should have.”

Stiles winced. Before he could offer his apologies, there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it.” His dad went to the door. “Problem?”

“No, sir.”

Stiles sat straight up, pushed at the blanket over his legs. “Derek?”

His dad heaved a sigh, but let Derek into the room.

Stiles stopped trying to get into his jeans when he saw how Derek was dressed: pajama pants and a tank top. He had no shoes and only a hotel key card in his hand. “Everything okay?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Derek looked in the direction of the others’ hotel rooms as if confirming his own words.

Somehow, through the magic of Lydia and Danny, the pack had managed to get hotel rooms all on the same floor as Stiles and his dad. Now that they had found Stiles, there had been discussion about going home, but the pack had decided to stay, learn more about Stiles’ Grimmness and vacation in the Portland area. Besides, Nick would probably need some help catching that Blutbad gang.

“If there’s not a problem, why are you here?”

“Dad!”

Derek didn’t seem to mind his dad’s rudeness. “The Blutbaden may try to track down Stiles. It would be better if I stay here tonight.”

His dad couldn’t argue any of Derek’s unspoken arguments. But it was obvious he wanted to by the grimace on his face. “You get the floor.”

“Dad!”

“Fine. You get the other bed, I’ll share with Stiles.”

Stiles found himself utterly unable to even form a response but his face must have been completely outraged because his dad glared at him.

“I’m not condoning--”

“We’re not even!”

“I don’t care. You’re a minor, he’s most definitely _not_.”

“Stiles, it’s okay.” Derek moved to the other bed. “I just want to make sure you’re both safe.”

Stiles mutely nodded.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Stiles woke up to find his dad glaring at him. Most probably because during the night, he had woken up and snuck into bed with Derek. Who was currently completely wrapped around him. Stiles didn’t want to make his dad any madder, but decided to make a stand and cuddled back into Derek’s warm, warm body.

“Stiles--”

“He won’t. We haven’t.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m pining. He’s pining. I’m going to die because of a terrible case of blue balls but the bastard is stubborn as hell. Nothing except some measly, hot as hell don’t get me wrong, but still, just some measly kisses to tie me over until my damn eighteenth birthday.” Stiles turned just enough to glare at the silently laughing man behind him. “Don’t you laugh at me, you asshole, I’m going to shove wolfsbane up your--”

“Stiles.” This time his dad’s voice had a distinct note of laughter in it.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 8

 

Nick sipped at the coffee Hank had brought him this morning, giving Monroe and Rosalee a chance to digest the information he and Hank had just told them. They had met here at Rosalee’s Exotic Spice & Tea shop to talk about the Blutbaden development in their missing person cases. 

“I’ve heard of them, but never met one before.” Monroe took a shaky sip of his tea, then shook his head. “They’re even deadlier than the most vicious Hundjäger or Königschlange. Man even a Mauvis Dentes would have trouble winning against werewolves!”

Rosalee was nodding, her gentle voice held notes of wariness but her soft, dark eyes held curiosity. “Mostly because werewolves hunt in packs. The larger the pack, the stronger they are.”

“Well, there’s about ten in this pack.” Nick hadn’t asked who in the pack was a wolf and who wasn’t, but his educated guess put it at four humans to six werewolves.

“Is it normal to have humans in these packs?” Hank asked.

Rosalee nodded, her wavy brown hair bouncing. “I’ve heard that some packs have humans, but --” She glanced uncertainly at Monroe.

“Those packs usually treat the humans like pets,” he finished for her.

“No, not this pack. The humans were equals.” Nick vehemently shook his head. He vividly remembered seeing the weapons in Allison and Danny’s hands. He saw how Derek had doted on Stiles afterwards, getting coffee and food for the younger man. The way the entire pack had swept up to Portland at the first sign that Stiles was in trouble. 

“I’ve heard of those too,” Monroe contradicted himself. “They’re usually strong enough to hold territories for generations.”

“Sounds about right,” Hank said. He glanced at his watch. “Well, I hope you’re ready, ‘cause the pack and the sheriff should be here in a few minutes.”

Monroe nodded, gulping down his tea like he needed the fortification. “If Stiles is a Grimm and he saw three Blutbaden working together, then you’re definitely going to want their help. Don’t get me wrong, Nick!” He threw up his hands and backtracked quickly. “You’re a great Grimm! Strong, fast, all that jazz! But taking on three, maybe even more, Blutbaden? You’re definitely going to want help.”

Hank huffed. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“In this instance, Hank, I think you might be.” Nick pointed to the crime scene photos they had brought to show Monroe and Rosalee.

His partner blanched and nodded.

The bell above the store’s door jingled. “Nick?”

“In here, Stiles!” Nick stepped out of the wide doorway between Rosalee’s workroom and the shop’s proper where he saw Stiles staring at all of the unusual ingredients neatly lining the shelves. He moved forward when he saw John entering and held out his hand. “Good morning, John.”

“Morning, Nick.” John was glancing around curiously, but he was more focused on Monroe and Rosalee behind Nick.

“Where’s --” Nick didn’t get to finish.

A roar echoed in the shop the second Derek stepped inside. Fangs, claws, and a pissed off werewolf aimed himself right at Monroe and Rosalee.

“Wait! No!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Nick leaned back, relaxing into his chair and snagging another chip from the communal bowl. Around him, Hank, Monroe, John, Derek and several of the pack were still gathered around the plans they were making to capture the Blutbaden that were kidnapping young men and selling them off to be eaten. 

It had been insane there those first few minutes of the pack’s arrival. Derek had smelled Blutbad and immediately reacted to a perceived threat. It had taken Nick’s frantic talking and Stiles plastering himself to Derek’s back before the alpha werewolf had calmed. Monroe had woged, snarling and growling as he protected Rosalee from Derek. Behind Monroe, Nick had seen Rosalee grab some of her more volatile ingredients and was sure whatever they did it would be bad.

Thankfully, everyone had calmed and no one had attacked or been attacked.

It took some time, and mostly the human contingent working together and ignoring the supernatural one, for everyone to slowly get along. 

Erica, Isaac, Jackson, and Scott were lounging about Rosalee’s workroom, eating lunch and quietly talking. 

As Erica had quipped, “Derek tells us to fight, Stiles and Allison tell us how to fight, we fight.”

The rest of the young men had nodded.

Derek, Boyd, and Allison were gathered around the planning table with himself, Hank, John, and Monroe. Monroe was giving them lessons on what to look for and how to fight a Blutbad. The plan had already been finalized. John hadn’t liked the idea of using Danny as bait, but he fit the profile and was the only human male in the pack. Stiles had initially volunteered, to John’s extreme displeasure, but Hank had pointed out that the Blutbaden already knew that Stiles had weapons against them and would be unlikely to go for him again.

Now Stiles, Lydia, and Danny were raptly watching Rosalee as she instructed them on some potion. She had gone into the back stores, where her truly exotic ingredients were held, and come back with several jars. Whatever she was teaching them had her audience taking notes and asking questions, completely enraptured. 

Nick stood up and moved to watch as she bagged quite a bit of the ingredients, carefully labeled them, and boxed them up before giving them to Stiles.

“This so awesome,” Stiles breathed in awe as he carefully took the box of ingredients. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Rosalee was smiling. She really was a gifted apothecary but also a great teacher as well. She was slowly teaching both Monroe and himself her craft as the need arose. And he’d come to her more often than he ever thought he would when he first meet the Fuchsbau and he was grateful to count her as one of his friends. She had been of tremendous help in many of his cases, but her gentle support was just as important as Hank’s partnership and Monroe’s guidance.

Nick was pulled from his musing when he saw her smile slipped just a bit when Stiles began reaching for his wallet. “Oh, no, Stiles, this was a gift.”

Stiles for his part, didn’t stop for his wallet, shaking his head. “No, no way. You already told me how expensive it is to get all this stuff. I can’t just take --”

Lydia sighed, loudly. “Here.” She dropped a black credit card on Rosalee’s counter. “You take Amex, right?”

Rosalee was staring at the young woman, then down at the card.

“I drop more on a single pair of Manolos on a weekly basis.” Lydia nudged the card towards her, obviously not taking ‘no’ for an answer. “Please.”

Everyone relaxed as Rosalee smiled again and reached for the card.

“Thank you,” she said as she turned to the credit card machine.

“No, thank you,” Stiles answered. “This totally going to help us protect our pack better.”

Rosalee was nodding; her slim, quick fingers working the machine. “Just remember to let the weapons cure overnight or the potion won’t adhere properly.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the teenagers chorused, grinning at her.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 9

 

The capture of the Blutbaden gang was anticlimactic. After all, a couple of Blutbaden didn’t stand a chance against a werewolf pack, two cops, and an experienced Grimm.

Danny had worn a red hoodie and gone jogging in the same park that the second victim had last been seen at. Above him, jumping from tree to tree, Derek and Jackson, their best climbers, were tracking him. Allison and Lydia were lapping Danny; Allison playing the part of crushing schoolgirl to perfection, blushing every time she and Danny’s eyes met, giggling to Lydia when they both turned around to check out Danny’s ass.

Stiles kept snickering because Nick and Hank were lapping him too, but this time, it was Danny who kept turning around to check out their asses.

“This has got to be the first time you’ve gone undercover,” his dad groused, huffing just a little as he tried to keep up with Stiles. “You’re terrible at it.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and decided not to tell his dad how many times he had acted as bait before. They were hiking a huge circle around Danny and the park. In Stiles’ hand was a large container of mountain ash. He would have snarked back but he was busy channeling his belief into the circle he was creating. They had just reach the point where they could see Danny and his two teams of human backup. All around him Stiles could feel the rest of the pack in their stationary positions.

Just as he finished the circle, a howl echoed through the park. 

They got there just as Derek and Isaac slammed down on top of Ratface and Lumberjack. His werewolves hauled the Blutbaden to their feet.

As soon as they saw Nick, they fought harder. Before the other betas could jump in, Nick knocked both of them unconscious with a single blow.

Stiles stared at his cousin. “Wow, will I be able to do that?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

At the station, Stiles got to hear secondhand how both Ratface and Lumberjack had immediately given up their other three accomplices, staring fearfully at Nick the entire time. The captain had mobilized an entire army of police officers to go pick up the rest of the gang.

Derek had taken his betas and followed them, just in case.

It was just him and his dad now, waiting at a diner for everyone else to capture the rest of the Blutbaden gang. They had only ordered coffee and once the waitress had brought it and cups, the two Stilinski men were silent as they sipped.

“So, werewolves,” his dad sighed.

“Yup.” Stiles stared at his coffee, daring only to peek up at his dad. He didn’t look mad, just . . . resigned, maybe?

His dad was scrubbing both hands over his face. “This had been a heck of a couple of days.”

“Yeah, uhm, sorry?” Stiles fiddled with his straw, then his napkin, then the menu. He really had no idea what to say to his dad. He had practiced, of course, just in case the wolves would be revealed, but he never thought that he would not be the only one with a secret to explain to his dad. “It runs in the family?”

His dad dropped his hands, staring incredulously at him. Then he started laughing. Great big belly laughs that made other people stare at them. 

Stiles carefully took his dad’s coffee away from him as his dad heaved in great big breaths.

“Jesus, Stiles.” His dad shook his head ruefully. “You’re just lucky I love you, kid.”

Stiles grinned sheepishly back. “Love you too.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The others showed up, Nick and Hank in tow. Moments after they came in, Monroe and Rosalee came in too. Everyone seemed jubilant and no suspicious stains were visible.

“How did it go?” Stiles immediately latched onto Derek as he slid into the booth beside him. He grinned as the alpha werewolf nuzzled and curled into him.

Derek only pulled away when his father loudly cleared his throat. “Fine.”

Stiles sent a mildly reproving glare at his dad before turning to Derek and raising an eyebrow. “Fine?”

Derek shrugged and nodded.

Shaking his head, knowing he should have known better, he turned to the rest of their pack and his cousin. “So, how’d it go?”

“Without a hitch,” Nick answered, his grin a little scary. “I asked Derek and the others to go upwind of the Blutbaden’s hideout.”

Stiles’ eyes widened as the rest of the pack grinned wolfishly. Pun totally intended.

Hank was chuckling low under his breath. “Man, you should have seen them scrambling when they caught the pack’s scent. They ran right into our handcuffs!”

Scott and Isaac were snickering. Lydia, Allison, and Erica were preening, while Boyd, Jackson, and Danny merely smirked. 

When Stiles looked over at Derek to see his reaction, he had to bite his lip to stop his laughter. Derek positively oozed smug satisfaction. He laid his head on Derek’s shoulder and reveled in the alpha’s relaxed slouch. It was rare for Derek to be so comfortable with outsiders nearby and Stiles wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible. Maybe terrorizing some bad guys without having to worry about anyone dying had been cathartic for him?

Nick was nodding and laughing too. “And they were stupid enough to keep records. They’re going away for a long time.”

Stiles had been surprised when Monroe told them about how Nick was a vastly different Grimm than those that came before, he was more inclined to imprison Wesen that had broken laws than just outright kill them. It was only when the Wesen didn’t give him a choice that he would act as judge, jury, and executioner. He hadn’t been surprised that his cousin imprisoned Wesen. No, he had been surprised that past Grimms were so very vicious, bad enough that they were the boogie man to Wesen children.

Monroe was shaking his head as he poured coffee for Rosalee. “I understand the instincts that come with being what we are, but man, those guys. They took it to a whole new level.”

His dad shrugged his shoulder as he sipped coffee. “They’re just like any other criminal. They saw a need and they fulfilled it. Illegal as it was.”

Stiles was surprised at his father’s rather prosaic outlook on the whole situation. He blinked it away, just glad that his father wasn’t having hysterics and was accepting of the pack. Now, he just had to work on his dad and his views on him dating Derek before his eighteenth birthday.

“Well,” Nick said as he glanced around the really large table filled to the brim. He held up his coffee cup. “This has been one interesting week. To new family and to new friends.”

Stiles grinned as everyone echoed the toast, drinking his coffee and leaning into Derek’s warmth.

~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Epilogue 

To: nick.burkhardt@portandpd.gov  
From: g.stilinski@beaconhillshigh.edu  
Subject: Hey, cuz!

May 25, 2012

Hey Nick,

Glad to hear everything is going to work out with you and Juliette. Can’t wait to meet her when the two of you come down here.

Derek and the gang say hi. We just got back from the beach. Jackson’s parents own the huge beach front house where we stayed. It was seriously sweet. It was weird for a little bit because we ran into an Eisbiber couple and their kids. They tried to run away first from Derek then from me! Had to do some fast talking but it turned out okay. I talked to them for a while, they seemed nice. They told me they were from a small town in Nevada. I wonder if he works at the dam there? Get it? Eisbiber? Dam? I crack myself up!

Later,  
Stiles

 

To: g.stilinski@beaconhillshigh.edu  
From: nick.burkhardt@portandpd.gov  
Subject: re: Hey, cuz!

May 25, 2012

Stiles, that was terrible. I can’t believe Derek hasn’t broken you of those terrible jokes yet. Seriously, that was bad.

Juliette is looking forward to meeting you and your dad. Derek and the gang too. 

Hank, Monroe, and Rosalee send their hellos. They’re all fine. Hank thinks Monroe is going to ask Rosalee to marry him soon. I hope so, they’ve been dancing around each other long enough.

See you soon,  
Nick

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "Runs in the Family"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/778302) by [mific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific)




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